World On Fire
by VideoDude
Summary: After the nukes dropped, the thousands who survived fled to the cities and subways to escape the radiation. Several years have passed by now. I live in the subway tunnels with my father. But I'm sick of it. A girl can't wait in a tunnel forever. I need to get out and explore. Metro 2033 / DayZ crossover. Zombies and fallout, what's not to love?
1. Intro

Nothing good ever comes of two super powers butting heads. However it wasn't all North Korea's fault, America responded in the same way. As Ghandi said, "An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind."

Which is exactly what happened.

The world is in radioactive fallout from the situation. Missiles went everywhere. It was like doomsday. I still have nightmares about it. I was only a little girl back then.

After the nukes struck, everyone fled to the subway tunnels and abandoned buildings that had walls thick enough to resist the radiation. They started small colonies. The government provided gas masks and other means of protection for those living in the now toxic wastelands that was our country.

In the tunnels the air is breathable, and it is perfectly fine to walk around without a mask on, but if you go outside, you need to wear one, and plenty of gear. In case you run into the things out there. If you don't have a weapon and air filters, you don't have a chance.

Everything out there is not what it used to be. It's a very dangerous time to be alive. When the bombs dropped they weren't just an explosion, they made sure nothing could survive. The radiation unleashed a new disease. This flesh eating virus initially infected those who stayed in the irradiated areas too long. Their skin began to turn bright pink, and they had bad fevers. The day after that, their skin was a pale green tint, and that day they would die. Trouble is though, they wouldn't stay dead.

These people got back up after they died and had an incredible hunger for other people. They ate other survivors. Those who got away with only a bite contracted the virus themselves, and shared the same cruel fate. Since then however, our immune systems have learned to adapt to the radiation sickness from hanging around irradiated areas too long. Thank modern medical science for that one.

However the bite transferral still has the same effect. They say there'll never be a cure.

The other creatures that live out there aren't what they used to be either. Irradiated animals have mutated and become monsters. They are all more than capable of killing us. For example; what were once rats are now Nosalises; creatures that can stand a foot taller than your average man, and can easily carve a man apart with their long, clawed arms and razor sharp teeth.

Not everyone can wait around forever hoping for some miracle to happen. People venture out into the wastelands in hope to find some sort of solution. None ever return.


	2. Chapter 1

"_Emily!"_ the scream of my mother cries out my name. I see her reaching out for me, while she's being dragged away by her legs by some creature.

I rocket up out of my bed, my heart pounding and a cold sweat dripping down my face. My bed couldn't really be called a bed. It's just a shelf that protrudes from the wall, supported by hanging chains that can hold my weight, but it works. It's worked for all the years we've lived down here in the subways.

I turn my head to see my father standing in the doorway, in his gear. He was wearing his olive coloured helmet, and his camouflage coveralls. He also had his assault vest on, with pouches full of ammunition for his rifle and pistol. His coveralls were tucked into his heavy duty boots, and he had a gas mask up over his helmet, ready to be dropped down upon his face when he got to the end of the safe zone.

My father was a Ranger. They're a group formed up of previous army soldiers and people with military training, who are capable to go out deeper into the tunnels and wastelands to search for supplies and other survivors who could help us. He volunteered for this. He was certain we'd find something out there that would help us. A supply cache, or something, but I was always unconvinced.

"Emily." He said, and it dawned on me it was his voice I heard in the dream, just that my mind made it fit with my nightmare; Cruel how the human mind can be. "Time to get up. I'm heading off on patrol. I'll be back around nine." He hoisted his rifle up over his shoulder with its sling fastening it across his back. "Take care."

"Yeah, you too." I replied, still dreary and a little shaken from my dream. I lie back down on my bed, my breathing now a little more under control. My body has left a wet patch where I had sweat into the sheets. I sit back up and look around the room, waiting for my eyes to un-blur themselves and adjust. Our place was small, and my room was smaller still. I have a diary open on my desk, next to my gas mask, which I've rarely ever used.

My father has left me a few bullets I can trade for lunch. Money has no value anymore. Everyone trades in what is needed to survive. Bullets, shells and other ammunition is now the currency of the world. When you fire your weapon, you're shooting away your savings, so you have to be wary of that.

I haul my legs over the edge of my bed, my feet dangling inches off the ground. The beds are higher up off the ground to prevent smaller creatures from sneaking in past the guards and stealing children off their bunks. I rub my eyes and blink a few times. Glancing again around the room, I take notice of my rucksack, hanging from my bookshelf. Since my father was a Ranger, we could afford a great deal more commodities than many others could, such as books, bookshelves and furniture in general.

I hop down off the bunk and trudge toward the bathroom, still dreary and not in the mood to be awake. I look at myself in the mirror. I stand at about 5'9". Not tall but not short either. My brown hair is tied up into a ponytail at the back of my head, but in my tossing and turning a fair few strands have made their way loose and dangle in front of my face. I exhale sharply to one side in an effort to blow one group of strands away from my face, to no avail.

I lean in close to see if I have any gunk in my eyes that may be inhibiting my ability to see, as my vision is still partially blurry. I glance about right up close to the mirror, searching my green eyes for any signs of sleep. _Aha!_ I found a gathering of it in the corner of my right eye. That's why I couldn't see.

After wiping that away I look down to see my shirt and shorts. Just past those are my feet, wearing socks. Between my shorts and socks I can see the lightly tanned skin of my legs showing. I wiggle my toes and watch the fabric of the socks move with them before sighing and looking back to the mirror. Sweat has formed in the small area across my chest where the shirt has become caught under my breasts. Annoying, but a common occurrence; I have underboob sweat every day.

I pull my clothing off piece by piece and start my shower running. The water for our showers and bathrooms all runs through filtration sites to prevent irradiated or contaminated water making it into our systems. There has been a colony to the east that has fallen to that. I don't think there are any survivors. My father was the one who found them after their communications went silent.

The water was cold to begin with as I kept my hand under the flowing water, but soon enough it began to warm up. At which point I removed my hair tie, placed it on the bench, which was still wet from when my father had evidently used the bathroom this morning, and stepped in.

The sensation of the room temperature water running down my body made my exhale peacefully. Not very often you have time to relax down here. In the subway tunnels, life is pretty busy. People run around the bustling markets searching for odds and ends they need. That's what tends to happen when you try and fit a town or two into a small confined space like an underground train station.

After I had washed up, I dried myself off and walked across my room. It was not winter at the moment, but after the bombs dropped, everything outside is dead and cold, so we wear clothing that will keep us warm. I open up my drawers to find my overalls. My fathers were different from mine. Mine were in two pieces, the pants and the vest, to be worn with whatever shirt I'd like. They are however the same camouflage pattern. The shirt flavour of today is grey. I slip my boots on and walk back to my desk.

I pick up the bullets and slip them into the pocket on the vest that sits upon my left breast. I then reach into my top drawer at my desk and pull out my knife. People are quite friendly in this town, so I don't so much have to worry about them. Everyone knows everyone around here. However the passers through could mean trouble and are capable of just about anything. I always keep on my guard, like my father always taught me.

I slip the dagger into the leather holster that has been sewed into the right part of the vest, symmetrically across from the now bullet holding pocket. After glancing momentarily at the gas mask I decided to leave it. I won't be leaving the colony so there's no sense in bringing it with me. I grab my rucksack off the hook on the bookshelf, hoist it over my shoulder and head for the door.


	3. Chapter 2

The air outside is brisk and sharp as it enters my lungs. The cold has a way of doing that to me, particularly after a warm shower. With all my gear on, the only part of me that's being attacked by the cold is my cheeks, which are now cool from the wind that flows gently through the tunnels.

Dad left roughly 20 minutes ago now, so it should be about 11:30am. If I head to Drew's stall I can make it for his lunch special. Life here is pretty predictable. You can tell when people will be in particular places at particular times because every day is almost exactly the same. It's dangerous to deviate from the norm. Or that's how the guards see it anyway.

Each step I took made the bullets in my vest pocket jingle softly. I could hear it only just, meaning most of those around me wouldn't be able to. This was good. Outsiders tend to pounce on the opportunity of a girl with ammo; stealing it for themselves because they seem defenceless. My knife on my right breast seemed to work as a pretty good repellent.

"Em!" a voice called from behind me. I pivot and spin about, scanning my surroundings to find the source of the sound "Over here!"  
I spot an arm waving above the bobbing heads of people walking past, and follow the arm down with my eyes to see Dylan.

Dylan has been a friend of mine since I was a kid; since before the bombs dropped. We lived next door to one another, and grew up together. Mum and dad always had funny ideas in their heads about him and I getting together when we grew up, but I only saw him as almost a relative at this stage.

We're both 22 years old now. He was taller than I was, standing at 6 foot, but he wasn't that much taller. Although he did like to remind me that he was taller than me. His sandy blonde mop of hair bobbed up and down above the other heads, hopping closer to me. Finally he emerged from the crowd, his blue eyes full of joy that he'd caught me.

"I almost didn't see you there!" He chuckled.

I gave him a swift punch in the gut. He pretended to laugh and walk it off but I could tell by his posture that I'd knocked the wind out of him. Pleased with my solid strike, I smiled at him, turned and began to walk toward the markets. He followed closely.

"What's the plan for the day?" He asked, already knowing the answer "Getting lunch from Drew's?"

I nodded but kept walking. I wanted to make it in time for the lunch special.

"Has Scary-Pants gone on patrol already?" He referred to my father as 'Scary-Pants' since we were kids and we'd knocked something over that broke while we were mucking about in the living room. Dad was furious, shouting and getting all worked up. This was normal for me but poor Dylan was about shitting himself. Since then the nickname stuck, but only when he wasn't around.

"How did your application go?" I asked. He applied to join the Rangers and work alongside my father. But all of his 3 attempts thus far have proved fruitless. "Any luck this time?"

He frowned and looked away. He was clearly upset about not getting in again. "They set their standards too high considering there are only about 7 of them." He never let me see him upset, made him feel like he wasn't good enough.

"What was it this time?"

"Rifle ability. Said I needed more time on the firing range. It's not my fault though! That rifle kicked like a donkey with a stick up its ass!" he defended himself with whining words. "If they had a nicer gun I'd be in by now."

"Next time, Dyl. Next time." I assured him. I hated seeing him upset, it's not like him. He's normally such a happy, cheerful person. I don't entirely know if the Ranger life would suit him; he's too nice for it.

"You should join up you know? I know that Scary-Pants has taught you heaps of gun control and survival skills. You'd do great!"

This was true, Dad had taught me all kinds of his own training. He had even modified it to suit it perfectly to my lifestyle. He did this just in case something went wrong in the tunnels and I had to retreat into the wastelands, like nosalises invading or zombies getting in. But until now the Rangers and guards have kept it all under wraps. Occasionally you'll get a group of nosalises try and barge past the gates, but they're all armed with mounted machine guns, and they get cut down pretty quickly, the big, stinking rats.

"And have to deal with Dad all that time? Yeah right! I'd rather take a walk on the surface without a mask thank you very much."

I loved my father, but dealing with him in a military unit? That'd be way too much. I'm fine dealing with him at home for now.

"Ah well. You would make a great addition. Where are they today, did he tell you?" Dylan asked eagerly, like a child inquiring about an old man's war story. Dylan wanted to be a Ranger so badly, he asked me every time my father went out what kind of activities they got up to.

"Something about an encampment going silent; a nearby colony sent out a scout group but they didn't get heard back from, so they've gone north to investigate." That sounds about like what he told me last night. Normally I would have listened more attentively but I was busy writing in my journal.

"Wow, so cool!" he said, his voice almost hitching in his throat from excitement. I tilt my head and smile awkwardly at him. He's so cute when he gets like this. Like a child being told they're stopping at a candy store on the way home.

Drew's stall was a small shop in the corner of the marketplace nobody went to. He sold all sorts of foods from different places. It was a hidden gem of sorts. My father showed me it almost a year ago and my addiction to his food began. He and my father got along very closely.

"Welcome back, Em! Hey there Dylan, how are you my boy?" he bellowed out. He was always happy to see us, and it was a mutual happiness.

"Hey Drew! Wow, you're so busy today!" Dylan made the same joke every time we visited, as there was nobody there, every time without fail.

Drew shook his head. "The usual for you darlin'?" he nodded at me.

"Yes please! I'm starving." I said, reaching into my pocket and slamming my bullets on the table. My stomach had been grumbling since I got out of the shower.

Drew jerked his head up at Dylan, as if demanding his order.

"Nah, none for me thanks, spent my allowance practicing at the firing range."

I look over at his dull face with surprise. I didn't expect him to have actually gone and practiced. He really wanted in.

He shrugged "What? 4 guys can't be wrong. They all said I needed rifle training."

I wasn't even paying attention to him anymore. From behind him a man in a trench coat and a gas mask emerged, lurking right behind Dylan.

* * *

Hey guys! It's me again.  
I'd just like to remind you to remember to review the story! This gives me a good direction on where I'm going with it and if it will get enough popularity for me to continue it. Let me know what you think! I LOVE reading reviews :)

Thanks guys.


	4. Chapter 3

This man was huge. He stood at about 6'3" and looked as nasty as they come. His trench coat was a deep grey, almost black. It looked leather but I could have been wrong. His gas mask had red eye glass and he wore a hood, connected to his coat, over the top of his head. I could see from the part in his coat he had a pistol holster with a large magnum on it, and a shotgun slung over his shoulder.

The guards let us roam around with weapons knowing that we are all trusted citizens, but they keep a very wary eye out and they let everyone know they are not to be messed with by how strictly they run the show around here. This guy looked very intimidating. I did not like the look of him.

I glance down at Dylan who is too busy eyeballing my food to notice the figure looming over him. Once I glance at him I look back up at the man. Who lifts his head and gazes at me. I can't even see his eyes behind the glass of the mask. I hear his respirator hiss as he takes a deep breath, and booms "What are you looking at?"

I almost jumped at how threatening his voice was. I only had my knife and he had two guns on him. I stood no chance in a straight up fight, so I kept to myself and looked away. Meanwhile, Dylan just about leapt up out of his chair and spun around to face the man. Initially out of shock but then to stand up for me. He was good like that, a person I knew I could rely on.

"Don't talk to her like that, you rude prick!" he started on the man. "Didn't your mother ever teach you any manners?"

"Dyl." I hiss, not looking up from the table. "Don't."

"What?" he shrugs at me, "This guy was rude and he shouldn't be."

"Get lost, punk." The man said. He was still terrifying.

"Come on now, guys! Let's just settle down and eat some food, huh?" Drew always tried to solve these tense situations with friendly invitations. It was a good way of settling down drunk people, but this guy was something else.

"I said get lost. Punk." The man's mask hissed again as he inhaled deeply.

"No way Darth Vader, I was here first. You're still being rude." Dylan stepped toward him to meet him face to face. The man didn't flinch. "Now why don't _you_ leave?" he said, poking the man in the chest, stiffly. This was a bad idea, as the man evidently thought Dylan was going for his gun, pulled back and gave him an almighty right hook to the face, knocking him over his chair and onto the ground.

As he goes down, the man reaches for his pistol, but at the same time I stand up. It takes him as much time to pull the gun out as it takes me to pull my knife. In a flash, I leap toward him, knocking him to the ground, my knife at his throat and the barrel of his gun pointed at my chin.

"You-" he manages to get out before I cut him off.

"There are 4 heavily armed guards set to patrol this area any minute now. I know their schedule. If you pull that trigger," I say, pushing my knife closer against his throat. "Not only will I cut you open to bleed like a pig, but you'll stand no chance against them. Now get up and walk the fuck away. Don't ever come back."

I slowly pull my knife away and he slowly puts away his magnum. I get up off of him and look back to Dylan, who is rubbing his chin and visibly shocked to have seen my quick reaction. It was honestly reflex.

I turn back around and the man is standing his full height against me, locking his pistol into its holster. He stands face to face staring at me for a moment before stepping back out of the stall, nodding at me and walking away. I watch him as he rounds a corner and vanishes, but not before glancing back at me again.

There was a moment of silence in which everyone was in awe. Dylan pushed up off the ground before I could help him up, and continued to rub his chin. "I told you. You'd be an awesome Ranger."

I sigh before sitting back on the stool and gazing at my food. "You shouldn't pick fights with people like him."

"Hey if he hadn't gotten in that cheap shot," he picked up his stool and sat back down on it "I would totally have knocked his rude ass out. Nobody talks to you like that." He managed a smile before returning to rubbing his chin, which was now starting to swell.

I turn back toward Drew, who began to clean a glass and nodded at me in approval. He always said he saw my father in me and moments like this supported his case. My father was a hard-ass, and he wasn't afraid of anyone. "Confidence, Em." That's what he'd say "If you're in doubt and in a scary situation, be confident and take no shit from anyone. That'll likely let you pass by a lot of grief."

This is something that applied to a lot of things in life in the subway. I thought about it as I ate my beef and noodle soup. This was my normal order. The other things on the menu were okay, but this was the best. Life was hard, and since losing my mother on the way to the tunnels to nosalises, I had to really learn to harden up, because things weren't going to be easy anymore.

I get half way through my noodles before glancing back up at Dylan, who was rolling his jaw and it was more swollen, slightly bruised. I put my chopsticks down before reaching out to Drew. "Ice."  
He nods and scoops some ice up from behind the counter and hands it to me. I pull my handkerchief out of my pocket and put the ice in it, then tenderly place it on his chin. However, due to how sensitive it was, he still winced and jerked away.

"Oh, come here you baby." I say, holding his head in place with my other hand, then with the same hand, grab the hand he was rubbing his face with, and make it hold the ice pack. He manages another smile. "Geez, no wonder you aren't getting let in to the Rangers."

"Oh, har har." He sarcastically laughed.

I push the remainder of my beef and noodles over to him. I'd already had half of it. "Here, you finish it." I felt bad about him spending his food money on training for something I don't think he would want to be a part of anyway. It wasn't all fun and games in the Rangers.

"Thank you." He said, leaning over and with his free hand gripping the chopsticks. "You're the best."

I turn back toward Drew. "Anything new going on?"

"Well," he huffs "Apart from me not getting any business nothing really." He grins.

"You don't get any business, that's not new!" I say with a smile and a laugh.

"I know, I know," he replies, chuckling himself. "Oh, actually there was a feller who came through here the other day. Seemed really shady. Was wearin' a tattered vest and was going on about impending doom. I'd stay away from that one."

"Impending doom? I think he's a few years late for that one." I chuckle.

"Yeah," he laughs, "but I think he was referring to something local. And in the next few days. Was going on about bandits and nosalises or some dribble." He returned to cleaning his glass. "I reckon it's a load of tripe. We're perfectly safe here."

"Yeah…" I agree, but think about it. If a good enough force came through here, our defences could be breached if they knew what they were doing.


	5. Chapter 4

When we had finished the food, we left the store and began to wander back to our places. "So you said all four of the board members said you needed more rifle training?"

He shrugged. "Yeah, but I didn't really practice with one to begin with so I guess it's reasonable." He seemed to have calmed down about it now. "I'll just have to get better at it. I'll be as good as you eventually." He nudged me. However I was pretty strong and sturdy on my feet, so I was barely moved.

"Hah, as if!" I teased back, poking him in the side. I was very good with a rifle, shotgun and pistol. My father taught me a lot. He liked to make sure I could handle myself if push came to shove; which it often does down here.

As we drew closer to our 'houses', I call them houses because that's easier than calling them chopped up train cars that have been modified as living quarters, I saw a man, somewhat shorter than I was, walking around in circles, talking to himself. He was rubbing his arms, occasionally throwing an arm into the air seemingly in frustration. The man was an old guy, I think easily in his 70's. People that old don't tend to live that much longer around here, once the world turned into what it is. He had long, scraggly hair, and a beard that matched, however the top of his head revealed a large bald spot, much like an old friar.

I look to Dylan to see if he's noticed him too, only to find Dylan observing him too. He was the type of person to always help someone who seemed even slightly in need; it's just how he was. That's part of the reason why I thought he wasn't Ranger material. I wasn't sure he had it in him to shoot someone in cold blood if they posed a slight threat. He turned to me and frowned. At this point, I knew he wanted to see if he was alright.

I jerk my head in the direction of the guy, signalling that I suppose I'll join him. He smiled and put on his 'let's make a friend' face. We both approach the man and as we come within a few feet of him, he suddenly stops and glares at us. We hesitate for a moment but with Dylan's special friend making face on, the man's hostility proved no match as he too joined Dylan in smiling.

Dylan was about to ask if he was okay, but just before he could get a word out, the old man spoke first.

"You! Young ones! Do you know of the impending doom? Tell me you're prepared!" He begged. It didn't take long to put two and two together and realize that this was the old nutbag that Drew was telling us about. With that one sentence, my willingness to keep talking with this guy was whittled down to almost nothing.

I shoot a frown at Dylan to signal I'd like to walk away, but he was right outside our houses. He would know where we live and I was certain that with his type of crazy he wouldn't leave us alone until my father came home to get him to leave this evening. Dylan frowned back but he was obviously keen on making sure this guy was alright. Bless him.

"What impending doom?" Dylan played dumb, this guy's condition meant he wasn't liable to pick up on that sort of thing.

"What impending doom?!" He exclaimed, as though _we_ were the insane ones. "You have to be kidding! You need to prepare!" He looked around suspiciously. "They're coming… It'll not be long until they're here. Make sure you're ready."

Dylan and I look at each other slowly; the puzzled looks on each other's faces were almost comical. We both look back at him, still confused. "Who's coming?"

He shook his head violently, starting to rub his arms again. "Not who… No, no, no, not who… _What._"

"Well then," Dylan said, his confident voice almost scaring me. "What is coming? You need to tell me so we can prepare." Dylan found it easier to go along with the ramblings of crazy people in hopes that if you just nodded and agreed they would leave you alone.

"The monsters." He whispered. "They're coming, and you have to get out. Outside is the only safe place. It's the only way out." He nodded back and forth. "You have to get protection and get out, you'll be killed."

The guy was creeping me out and I looked quickly back to Dylan, praying he wouldn't pry any further.

"Look guy," Dylan said after catching my glance "The guards have this place secure, okay? And even if they didn't, just about everyone here is armed to the teeth. We'll be fine here."

"No, too many." The man blurted back, seemingly getting frustrated. "Too many! You won't survive if you stay!"

Dylan was getting agitated at this point. "Then why are you here still? Leave us alone and get out."

The man hesitated, clearly taken aback by the sudden use of logic in his life. "No! I can't. Have to stay. Warn people. Can't go outside. No protection. I'll be killed."

"That's exactly why we don't go outside, and why what you're saying is crazy." I reply. I'd had it up to beyond my limit with this lunatic. "Please leave us alone."

"Fine!" he yelled, grabbing the attention of a guard who had just emerged from the building behind him. The guard slowly walked over, looking at me but pointing at the guy. He was wondering if the guy was bothering us. I nodded quickly at him. "You'll all be killed!"

The guard clearly wasn't a fan of the 'k' word, and after he said 'killed', the guard grabbed him by the arm and took him away, but the man didn't go silently. The whole way he was yelling out about the monsters.

I look over at Dylan. "If I ever get that crazy," I say, nudging him in the arm, "then you have permission to slap some sense into me."

Dylan laughed. "I wouldn't dare."

We said our goodbyes for the day, and Dylan went home. He lived with his grandmother. She was quite sick and he couldn't go out for long. He had to give her almost constant care. We could all tell she didn't have long to live, but she was always nice to him and it was too hard for him to admit to himself she was on her way out.

We tried to help him out as much as we could, but he was confident he could look after her on his own. His persistence in helping others and his kind heart were the things I admired most about him. Dylan always had a way of showing the humanity left in people during these hard times.

* * *

Hey guys!  
Thanks so much for reading. I'm very glad to have such a response from you all with your reviews.

I wanted to remind you to keep posting reviews! It makes a huge difference when writing stories like this. If you stop reviewing, I won't likely feel like continuing the story. So really its up to you guys to keep your favourite stories running with reviews.

Thanks so much again, and please keep reviewing the story. That way I'll keep writing :)  
Thanks,  
~Nick


	6. Chapter 5

I took off my gear and piece by piece dropped it onto my bunk. I then trudged over to my desk and plopped into my chair with an exasperated _huff_. My plan was to write in my journal, as I did every day, just in case something happened to me, and someone found me, they would know a bit more about who I was. You start to think that way down in these tunnels. Every aspect of life becomes a little grimmer.

Tonight however, I had only just flipped open my book before I hesitated. I wasn't sure what to make of anything that had happened today. I looked down at the watch strapped to the palm side of my left wrist, and it read 6:32pm. I frowned. I wasn't in the mood to eat anything for dinner. Lunch wasn't that long ago and I had other things clouding my mind. Perhaps after I'd done some more thinking I'd feel like having something else to eat.

With the food supply beginning to dwindle somewhat down here, we had to watch how much we consumed. The last thing I want is Dad going out on scavenging missions because I pigged out on the cans of baked beans. I shook my head clear quickly so I could focus on one thing at a time.

I wrote about how Dylan had applied for his Ranger position again, and was again knocked back. I stopped and frowned. He tried so hard and deserved better. Perhaps I'll buy him a gift tomorrow and try to cheer him up. He said that all four board members said he needed more rifle training. They don't normally all agree on one thing, but surely they see his determination by now.

The Ranger application board was run by our 4 elected leaders. They're our political minds. They more or less run the show around here. One is in charge of the guard, one in charge of the Ranger unit in general, and the other two are just mayoral types. We don't pay much attention to them around here because we all know that the others are the ones we want in charge when the shit hits the fan.

I decided to lie down on my bed to clear my head. It normally worked for me. I lied down slowly on my bunk, pushing my stuff aside and resting my head on my pillow. I stared at the same patch of rusting ceiling I normally stare at. In my mind it somewhat resembled a bunny rabbit and it helped calm me. Happy thoughts.

* * *

I opened my eyes suddenly and shot up in my bed, taking a large sharp breath. I had fallen asleep while I was thinking; this happened a lot. I slowly exhaled the breath I'd taken in and lied back down on my bed. I hadn't dreamt but at least I didn't have nightmares. I rolled my head to the left and looked down at my wrist.

The time was 10:16pm. Dad should have been home by now, so I decided to go say hello. I hopped down off my bunk and began walking for the door before I heard glass smash from my left, the opposite direction to Dylan's house. It had come from one of the house windows. Perhaps someone was having an altercation. I shrugged it off; wasn't my house.

I opened the door of my room and crept over to Dad's room. Sometimes when he came home he would just go to sleep. I opened his door slowly so I didn't wake him and peeked through the crack. But there was nobody there. I opened the door the whole way to find his bed and his belongings were all untouched. The rifle and revolver were still in their normal places, his rifle resting against the wall next to the bathroom, and his revolver sitting on his bedside table.

I felt my concern growing in my belly. Normally he's spot on about the time he returns. He's really good with that, but if ever he got back and headed back out for whatever reason, he always left a note.

Today there was no note waiting on his bed for me. I jumped and spun around as another window smashed and startled me. I thought I should probably check it out. I quickly jog to my room, get my clothes from earlier back on, return to my father's room and pick up the revolver. I popped open the cylinder where the bullets were kept, to find it was empty. I smiled.

_You and your gun safety, Dad. Count on you to pull that one._

I quickly pull his top drawer open and find an ammunition cartridge for the revolver. Inside there lay 24 rounds. I pull out six, load up the revolver, spin the cylinder (I loved doing that.) and locked it back into place, arming the gun. I tucked it into the back of my pants and went for the door. I was sure it wouldn't go off as I hadn't readied the hammer.

I unlock the door and hear a scream from down the road as I do it. I quickly throw the door open and draw my revolver. People are running. The streets are more or less empty, apart from the odd person running for their house. A guard unit is luckily passing by just as I start to look around. One of them spots me and runs over, his rifle in hand.

"What's-"

"Your mask, you have it?" He quickly blurts out, panicked.

"Inside."

"Get it. Get gear, get out. There's no time to talk, there's a huge wave of those monsters tearing through the east gate and people are already looting. Get your shit and run." He points behind me to the path behind Dylan's place that leads up to the exit. "Take the east exit, less likely to be any there. Don't worry about anyone else, just get your shit and get out."

His squadmate calls him and waves him over. He nods before turning back to me. "Good luck. Please be safe."

I nod back quickly and go back inside, slamming the door shut. My heart is pounding, my head spinning. I feel like being sick, but I have to stay focused. I run into my room and tear out a blank page of my journal.

'Dad,  
Nosalises broke defences, have to run. Taking east exit and running. Please be okay. I'll try and find you somehow, I don't know how but somehow. I'll be as safe as I can.

I love you Goofball!"

That was our thing. We called each other goofball, especially in times of panic to help keep each other together. Worked every time so far. I kiss the note, panicked tears welling in my eyes, and place it on my desk. I grab my journal and stuff it into my rucksack. There's no room for error here. I can't forget anything.

I grab my gloves from my bedside table and slip them on immediately. That'll give me more grip on things. I fling open my cupboard doors and find my pistol holster for the revolver. It was the same type of holster that the man from Drew's stall wore, and I could reach into the open zip in my vest to pull it out if needed. I put it on, strap it all into place and hook my pistol in. My heart is still racing.

I breathe heavily as I put my boots on and lace them up. Tears are still welling in my eyes but I quickly wipe them away. There's no time to cry now.

I grab 2 cans of beans from my desk and a bottle of water, and stuff them into my bag. It was only a small backpack, green in colour, but it would do. I zip it up and take one last look at my room before grabbing my gasmask. I'm not sure I'll ever end up returning. I hear roars and terrified screams coming from outside. I hear gunshots but they are distant.

I sprint into my dad's room and grab the rifle. It also isn't loaded and the magazines are in his second drawer. I pull his drawers open, almost pulling them free of the drawer unit. I grab the boxes of bullets, the one for the revolver and the one in the second drawer containing extra rounds for the rifle. I then pull out the rifle magazines and stuff them into my bag too. The last of which I load into the rifle and pull the cock back, chambering a round.

I hold it across my chest and breathe. I needed this moment to pull my shit together. In the same drawer as the revolver rounds sat an extra 2 air filters for the gas mask I wore, same model as my father's. I grab one and stuff that into the backpack too, zipping it up one last time and stand back up. I left the other one there in case dad came back and needed it for the surface or if someone else came by and needed it.

I ran outside, leaving the door unlocked and ran across for Dylan's house. I couldn't see any nosalises around so far, and I hoped it would stay that way.

* * *

Hey guys!

I know its an extra long chapter this time, but I thought I'd get your feedback on doing that. What do you all think of chapters being longer like this? Do you prefer them like this or the normal format?

Thanks for your time, just wondering.

Thank you all so much for reading, please remember to review, and I'll remember to write more :)


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